Loving Ashe Page 9

“Are you familiar with Yorkshire?”

  As he said the word ‘Yorkshire’ Riley noticed a change in the way he spoke, an accent she had never noticed before. Riley shook her head. “Does that mean you naturally speak differently from the way you talk for the movies and all?”

  “What you hear on many British TV shows and movies is what we call RP, or Received Pronunciation. It used to be that actors who wanted to make it in the business needed to master that mode of speech, but you don’t have to lose your native accent, if you have one.”

  “Like a dialect?”

  “Exactly, just as there are dialects here,” Ashe laughed.

  “Can you say something in your dialect?”

  He cleared his throat. “It takes me a while to get back to the way I really talk, but here goes. Are you ready? ‘Tis a poem my gran used to say all the time.” He said, and already the way he said gran sounded different.

  “Ready,” she said, grinning.

  “Hast tha seen our Mary’s bonnet, it’s a stunner and no mystak, yella ribbons yella roses n a great big feather hung downt back. Our Mary went to church one Sunday morn, alt folk did gawp n stare, ‘nt preacher said,” Mary this is a house of God, not a flower show.” Ar Mary stood up, fit to swallow church n all’t folk in and said, “Fatha, thy head’s bald, nowt in it, nowt on it, wouldst tha like a feather owta my bonnet.”

  When he was finished, Riley stared at him. “I have no idea what you just said, but it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Thank you,” Ashe grinned. “Anyway, that’s how I speak when I’m with family and friends back home. It’s just a regional dialect, like here, where Louisiana folks have their own accent and those in Minnesota have theirs as well.”

  “And we New Yorkers have ours,” she said. “Though we hate to admit it, as far as everyone else is concerned, we don’t have an accent.”

  “Right, and that’s exactly how we feel in Yorkshire,” he chuckled. “I hope you’re not disappointed to learn that I’m really not from London, nor am I posh.”

  “Why would I be disappointed? I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Ashe Hunter.”

  “Well, there’s more to all of us than meets the eye, so it’s not like I hold a monopoly on it,” he said sheepishly. Pointing to the TV set in front of them, he said, “You’re the only person I know who still has one of those — well, the only young person I know.”

  “Next thing you’ll tell me that I’m an old lady inside,” Riley said. “That’s what Paige keeps telling me.”

  Ashe chuckled. He had finished his coffee and was leaning against the back of the couch, his right index and middle fingers rubbing absentmindedly along the top of his right thigh. “You’re far from an old lady, Riley,” he said. “If I remember correctly, someone did say that I was an old fart.”

  “Well, I have been known to be wrong about so many things,” Riley said.

  “Not entirely wrong,” Ashe said. “I may not have an old TV set, but I do collect old records. Vinyl records.”

  “You mean for a turntable?”

  He nodded. “I had to scour the Village for one when I bought my place. Fortunately, I found one, and it’s heavenly.”

  “Are you serious?” Riley asked, though she didn’t have to wait for an answer. He was still pink-cheeked and smiling shyly.

  “I might go all-out nerd on you so I hope you don’t mind,” he began. “Original sound is basically analog by definition, and a vinyl record is able to capture the whole sound wave, which then feeds it into your amplifier, which then produces the sound you hear. The grooves on a vinyl record basically mirror the original sound wave, while in a digital recording, as in CD’s these days, they mainly just approximate the original sound with a series of fixed steps. Your CD player, let’s say, merely converts the digital signal into analog and sends it to the amplifier — your speakers.” He peered at her. “Have I lost you yet?”

  “No, not yet,” she said. He could read the phone book for all she cared. Still, what he said did make sense for her mother always insisted on playing her old records even when her father bought her the latest music on cassettes.

  “So while a record can pick up fast transitions of a trumpet, let’s say, Dizzy Gillespie, a lot of those transitions may be too fast to be converted into digital. The downside, of course, is that any dust or damage to the record will often produce static. Otherwise, there’d be silence,” he continued, though this time he looked sheepish.

  “It’s official then,” Riley laughed. “You’re a bona-fide nerd.”

  “Excuse me, but I prefer to be called a collector. I have the first editions of the Sex Pistols, the Beatles, and many others,” Ashe smiled. “Who knows? If acting doesn’t work out, I can always sell them to pay my bills and then work behind a bar.”

  Riley laughed, swatting at his leg but Ashe caught her hand. He wove his fingers through hers and Riley’s breath caught in her throat as his thumb traced her palm. For a few minutes, they didn’t speak. Riley allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of his thumb stroking her palm, amazed at how such a simple caress made her belly tighten and her insides turn to mush.

  “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met,” Ashe said, his voice deepening. “You’re a remarkable woman, Riley.”

  There was something about the way he spoke that made Riley lightheaded just from listening to him and feeling his thumb maddeningly sensuous against her palm. It was a heady mix of man and sound in the way it was perceived by the human ear, sound waves traveled through a medium that could turn someone on or turn them off. In her case, that medium was Ashe’s velvety voice, deep and sensuous, and boy, did it turn her on.

  “When was the last time you were with someone?” she asked.

  His eyes narrowed. “Is this ‘Twenty Questions’ again?”

  “No, it’s just one question,” Riley replied. “I just want to make sure you’re not shitting me, that’s all. I mean, this isn’t the Middle Ages, and a woman can ask whatever she wants, right?”

  His brow furrowed, as if he were considering her question. Riley was being forward, she knew that. But she also knew that, just as Paige had said that evening, Ashe could hurt her more than Gareth ever had.

  “If you’re asking me when I was last in a relationship, that was six months ago. I’ve been unattached since then,” he said. “But if you’re asking me when was the last time I slept with someone, then I’m afraid I can’t answer you. That’s quite a personal question, Riley.”

  “Look, I just need to know that you’re not playing me like — ” She stopped herself, not wanting to raise the ghost of Gareth between them. It was ancient history, she told herself.

  Ashe let go of her hand and began rubbing the top of his thigh, frowning. “What’s so wrong with trying to get to know you, Riley? Is this the way you really want to live your life, just doing whatever your sister decides is good for you? Do you even have an idea what you really want without Paige telling you whether it’s acceptable or not?”

  Riley sighed. Was she pushing him away because of Paige, or was she afraid of him hurting her the way Gareth had? Why did she have to run into someone she actually did like, only to find out that he actually worked with Gareth? It was like a bad joke the universe was pulling on her, and it wasn’t the least bit funny. At least, she wasn’t laughing.

  Ashe got up from the couch and dusted invisible crumbs from his jeans, probably just to keep his hands busy. “It’s late and I need to go,” he said. “Thank you for the coffee, Riley, and thank you for allowing me to spend the evening with you. I enjoyed myself immensely.”

  Until I opened my big mouth, she thought.

  He walked towards the door and Riley trailed after him, not knowing what to say. She used to be so funny, she thought. She used to be happy and spontaneous. Used to be. Now everything was an act, a finely crafted pretense to fool everyone into believing she was happy when deep inside she was lonely. Miserable, even.

  Ashe w
alked to the door, reaching for his coat hanging from the hook.

  “Ashe,” she whispered as he turned to face her, a questioning look in his eyes. She didn’t want to say another word. This time, she wanted to use another medium to relay what she wanted to tell him. A look, a touch, even a kiss — but only, if she were brave enough. Riley took another step towards him, her hand touching his face and feeling the stubble scratch her fingers. His brow furrowed, but his mouth was no longer set in a thin line. Instead, his lips were half open, about to speak, but he, too, stopped himself when his eyes met hers.

  Riley stood on her toes and kissed him gently, inhaling his cologne and something else, his personal scent, heady and exhilarating. Her other hand curved softly along his waist, resting against the rippling muscles beneath his tight shirt. The kiss was gentle, hesitant almost. She was grateful that he didn’t pull away.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered.

  Ashe took a step towards her, his arm around her waist, guiding her backwards against the wall. His movements were so fluid, reminding Riley of a cat. Stealth in tight jeans.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Ashe whispered, his arms circling her, pulling her closer as he bent his face towards her. “Not right now.”

  Riley closed her eyes as he kissed her, tasting coffee and cream on his lips, and smelling the scent of his cologne. They kissed for a few minutes, her arms circling his neck, her body melting against his. She felt Ashe’s tongue slip between her teeth, tasting her, sweeping along the sides of her mouth as his kiss grew deeper, making the butterflies in her belly flutter wildly, wanting more.

  Her resolve, or whatever had remained of it, deserted her. All Riley wanted now was for Ashe to make love to her. She wanted him to tell her how beautiful she was, and that he really meant every word he said to her then, that she was beautiful, remarkable, and that he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since they first met — even if he was lying to her. She’d live with her decision in the morning when he’d be long gone, back to the world where he’d have his pick of women, booze and drugs, whatever his choice of poison happened to be. But tonight, the only poison that Riley wanted was Ashe, and she wasn’t about to let any promise to her sister stop her from having it.

  Not tonight.

  10

  Boys Have Baggage, Too

  They were in the midst of their kissing session five minutes later, still standing by the door, when Riley’s phone began to ring, or rather, tinkled, like series of fairy bells. It kept tinkling, pausing only to allow the caller to redial the moment the call went to voicemail.

  “Are you going to answer that?” Ashe asked. “It could be an emergency.”

  Emergency, my ass, Riley wanted to tell him. Everything was an emergency to Paige. “It’s Paige,” she whispered.

  They were still standing by her door, though Riley was now leaning against the wall. Her legs had grown weak from his kisses, which had begun on her lips and continued to her cheeks and her eyelashes before moving down to her neck. His deft hands drove her mad, palms that cupped her breasts and squeezed them, fingers that rubbed against her nipples, gently tugging at the barbell clips through the fabric of her shirt that she whimpered shamelessly against him, her thigh rubbing against the side of his leg. It was maddening, but he was a man who took his time, and she wanted more.

  The phone rang again.

  “She might just come over here if you don’t answer,” Ashe said, disengaging himself from Riley. “And I don’t think she’s going to be happy knowing I’m here, is she?”

  Riley didn’t answer. He was right, of course. She rushed towards her purse on the couch and fished out her phone.

  “I’m going to leave, Riley,” Ashe said.

  No! Riley mouthed as she answered her phone.

  But it was too late. Ashe was slipping on his coat and opening the door while mouthing back to her, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

  “IS HE THERE?” Paige demanded to know from the other end of the line. Her voice was so loud that Riley had no doubt Ashe must have heard it. “He better not be in there with you, Ri, or I’m coming over. You promised me you wouldn’t see him again!”

  The door shut behind Ashe and Riley groaned. She wanted to cry, but it would have been pointless. In fact, it would have made her look desperate, if she didn’t look desperate enough already.

  “No, he’s not here,” she said. “I had the phone set on Quiet.”

  “Really?” Paige asked.

  “Yes, really,” Riley replied, collapsing on her couch. She wasn’t really lying. She did put her phone on Quiet mode whenever she worked, and at that moment, Ashe was actually not there with her.

  Paige didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then Riley heard her exhale. “You better not be lying to me, Ri. I’m not in the mood to get dressed and go over there just to check on you.”

  “Then don’t. I’m not a kid and I’m not lying to you, Paige,” she said. “It’s two in the morning. What the hell?”

  “I actually called to apologize,” Paige said and Riley rolled her eyes. Sure, Paige also kept hitting the redial button four times in a row. “I may have come on too strong tonight, kicking Ashe out of the house and all, and for all I know, he’s probably a really nice guy,” Paige said.

  “He is.”

  Paige sighed. “But I want you to find someone normal, Ri, someone who has a regular job, who will come home to you every night, not someone who’ll run off to Africa because he’s doing a movie and come back three months later. That’s just a load of potential heartbreak, and you can’t handle that. No one can handle that, unless they’re into pain. Lots of pain.”

  “You’re starting to nag again,” Riley said as she leaned back on the couch and hugged her knees in front of her.

  “I just worry about you, Ri,” Paige said. “Anyway, hear me out, all right? I think he’s a nice guy, really I do. Even Clint said so. Anyone who can spend three hours with the boys and keep their sanity has got to be decent. But if he wants to woo you-”

  “Whoa! Wait a minute,” Riley interrupted, sitting up on the couch. “What’s this about ‘wooing’? Since when did you even start using that word?”

  “Since you’ve been watching all those Jane Austen and Gaskell movies at the house,” Paige scoffed. “Besides, I can’t think of any other word right now. Wait! What about ‘court’?”

  “Is that what Clint did? He courted you?”

  “You know he did, Ri,” Paige replied and Riley knew Paige was right. She still remembered the endless gifts of jewelry and designer clothes, even trips to the Hamptons and to the Bahamas and even Paris, with Riley in tow. “I know he’s twenty years older than I am, but he knows how to treat a woman right. He’d do anything for the boys and me. Anyway, about Ashe – so I asked around-”

  “I can’t believe you’re spying on him,” Riley exclaimed.

  “Did you know he’s a country boy?” Paige continued, as if Riley hadn’t spoken. “He’s the son of a sheep farmer and a schoolteacher up in northern England, Yorkshire, or something like that. I had to look it up. They apparently talk funny over there.”

  “Who told you this? Is it online?”

  “Betty told me,” Paige replied. “She’s got the dish on all her clients — not that she’s going to blab to the papers or anything.”

  “But she’ll blab to you.”

  “Only because I asked her,” Paige said. “She told me that Ashe is a wonderful guy, really caring and thoughtful. His fame hasn’t gone to his head, like someone you and I know.”

  Of course. Gareth.

  “Okay,” Riley said, sighing. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “He had this girlfriend. Betty said that they were together for three years or something like that. I mean, she just got his account because of Sentience, so she’s getting the old news second hand from someone else — maybe his manager, Collette or something. Anyway, he brought his girlfriend along on location to Jordan last year.”
<
br />   “You said, ‘had’ a girlfriend,” Riley said slowly.

  “I think they might even have a kid together,” Paige continued, her voice hushed as if for dramatic effect. “But don’t quote me on that. Sometimes Betty gets her juicy tidbits mixed up, like that time she told me Brad was gay when she really meant Tom.”

  This time, Riley stood up and began to pace the floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Bailey emerge from under the bed, stretch and approach her. She sat back down and waited till Miss Bailey hopped onto her lap.

  “What about this girlfriend?” Riley asked, a knot forming in her belly. She remembered Ashe telling her he’d last been in a relationship six months earlier, but he hadn’t said anything about having a kid.

  “She died,” Paige said. Riley pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp. “She was sick, I don’t know what with, but that’s why the promotions for Sentience were delayed. I heard that ticked Gareth off since it messed up his own schedule. Ashe only came back to work three, no, four weeks ago, around the time you both went to Lee’s for noodles.”

  Riley sighed. “Is this where you’re going to tell me that he’s bad news? That there’s something else about him and I need to just step away? What if Betty got her gossip mixed up?”

  “Then she got her gossip mixed up. Big deal,” Paige said. “Look, Ri, I know this sounds mean but it’s best that this be nipped in the bud now instead of later. What if he’s only using you as a rebound thing or something? I mean, I’m sorry for the guy. He might just be lonely. He could even be in mourning.”

  “He’s on the rebound. He’s lonely. He’s in mourning,” Riley said. “What is it, Paige? Make up your mind. What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Paige replied. “Clint actually likes him. He thinks that Ashe seems trustworthy. ‘Solid’ was the word he used, and that’s something — if Clint says someone’s ‘solid.’ He never takes to anyone-”

  “That’s because everyone is a possible investment potential for him, Paige,” Riley said. “Not that it’s a bad thing for Clint, but that’s just Clint for you. And I’m honestly glad that Clint at least is the voice of reason in all this, because you are absolutely not making any sense.”